Ray has quite mastered the knack of speaking with his body. Fraser's own body, he knows, speaks as well, and often, but never what Fraser wants to say. It betrays him, gives him away, despite all his best efforts to the contrary. When Frannie leans in for a kiss, Fraser's body tenses, freezing up in fight or flight instinct, or he pulls away in a sharp, sudden gesture. Fraser's body is not kind to Frannie, does not spare her feelings. Still, that hardly seems to matter. Fraser is not certain if she is oblivious to his body's cues or simply somehow determined to move past them.

With Ray, Fraser's body does the very opposite. He finds himself leaning in for no discernible reason, hovering too close, being too quick to welcome a helping hand on his elbow, an encouraging pat on his shoulder, an emphatic poke to his chest. He leans into each of Ray's gestures, as much a punch as a pat, as if all his fight-or-flight were used up by Frannie, leaving him stripped and defenseless and far, far too obvious. Ray is an observant man, is a detective, for God's sake. He is certain to notice eventually the clear and constant signal Fraser is broadcasting his way, and when he does...

"Frase?" Ray is looking at him oddly, his wide blue eyes concerned.

Fraser's body betrays him yet again with a blush. He looks down, away from Ray's too-observant eyes, but he finds his gaze suddenly caught by the hollow of Ray's throat peeking out from his shirt, the skin delicate and golden. Fraser swallows, an entirely unvoluntary gesture.

But Ray just tilts his head to favor Fraser with a long, reading look, then leans into Fraser with that gracefully expressive body.

And starts talking.